Tekken ball Z: Kazuya saga rewrite
by The 666th necrophiliac
Summary: A complete rewrite of Tekken Ball Z. Obviously quite AU. The Saiyans are invited to the sixth King of iron fist tournament. They make new friends and face new trials, but things are not as they seem as plots in the background form. A new saga is about to begin.
1. 1 Dining out

_**A/N: Alright, here we go. The Tekken ball Z rewrite. So, without further ado, here we go!**_

_Disclaimer:_

_I do not own_

_Tekken_

_Dragon ball Z_

* * *

The full moon was out, its light shining down on the mountain pass, however that did not stop young Kazuya Mishima. He had ventured out to the grand mountain that loomed over the town. He needed to get stronger, and this was the perfect place to train. Plus getting away from his father was a bonus. Wild cats roamed the mountain, making perfect training partners.

As the ten year old boy walked, he found a trail of blood. "_What on earth,"_ Curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to check it out. As he neared the peak, the narrow trail of blood ended and something else caught Kazuya's interest. A young, beautiful girl was sitting at the edge of the cliff, crying. He wondered what was wrong, unless. Was the blood hers?.

Kazuya ran towards her, and as he got close, he saw that she was holding a rabbit.

"Why are you crying," Kazuya asked in a compassionate voice, "are you hurt? Do you want me to get help?"

Her head whipped to him, startled. The girl wiped the tears from her eyes. "A wild cat attacked her, and I can't stop the bleeding."

"Don't cry. If you want, I can kill the wild cat for you. I'm training to be a great fighter, so this will be a piece of cake"

She shook her head. "That won't help."

Suddenly a figure jumped out at her, and she cried out from shock. Kazuya moved with blinding speed, punching the beast away before it got close to the girl. The wild cat fell to the ground, knocked unconscious.

"Thank you," The girl said.

"Don't worry. While I'm here, nothing bad will happen to either of you."

The girl smiled, "My name's Jun, what's yours?"

"Kazuya"

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!" they both jumped at the new voice. A man jumped out and grabbed Kazuya by the shirt.

"Father!" Kazuya cried in surprise.

"What did you call me?" the man growled, "and why are you still warring this idiotic pendent. Come, it's about time you dispose of it." Heihachi grabbed a pendent that was hanging around Kazuya's neck, and ripped it off.

"No please, that's all I have to remember mother by!" Kazuya pleaded.

The man sneered. "So what?" Heihachi threw the pendent over the edge of the cliff.

"No!" Kazuya cried.

"Now, we shall see if you are worthy to be my son. One final test. One final chance to prove yourself. If you can climb up this cliff, then you may call me father, if not, then obviously you are unworthy of my name." Heihachi growled.

"Y-you can't be serious!" Kazuya cried, mortified.

"Stop!" Jun cried

"Silence yourself, _girl_!" Heihachi said before kicking Jun in the head. She fell silent.

"Jun!" Kazuya called out. She was unconscious … hopefully.

"This is for your own good! Now, prepare yourself!" Heihachi shouted, throwing his only child off the cliff. He fell, terrified, frozen. He was going to die. There was no chance for him.

"_I-I don't want die"_ Kazuya thought as Heihachi grew smaller, and smaller, "_I'm gonna die, I don't want to die, somebody, anybody. Help me! I'll do anything!"_

The world around him froze, and Kazuya heard laughter.

"_**So, you will do anything will you, would you give anything as will"**_

"_Yes, w-who are you_"

"_**Call me Devil, and I believe we can help each other.**__"_

"_Please, save me and anything is yours. Even my soul!"_

"_**Your soul is mine, even if I let you die. What I need is a body I can use as a vessel, give me that and you may live to see another day. You may live to have revenge."**_

"_I accept! Just don't let me Die!"_

Suddenly, a rush of energy came over Kazuya that he had never felt before, and then, he blacked out.

_**40 years later**_

The streets of west city were buzzing with activity. The twenty-eighth Tenkaichi Budokai tournament had concluded. Goku had obtained victory in the semi-final match, defeating Vegeta with a ring out. Neither admitted the victory though, due to it being on a technicality. He then promptly threw the match against Mr. Satan out of good will.

"There will be no ring when we have our match," Vegeta promised as their family and friends filed into the restaurant.

_Law's restaurant: It's a working title_.

Trunks read the sign out loud, before shrugging and entering. Whoever was running the restaurant had better have stocked up. They were going to need it.

* * *

About an hour later in the kitchen, the fighting chef Martial Law wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. The orders had started coming in by the pile. Good news, if he raked in enough, he'll be that much closer to paying off his debts. Bad news, at this rate, they were gonna run out of ingredients.

"Five pork bone ramen, fried rice, chicken Chou mien. Three soy Ramen. Ten spring rolls. Table six!"

Damn, table six again. They'd just sent them an order a few minutes ago. How the hell could anyone eat so much? "Young, we need ingredients," he called to his sous-chef, "go now."

"but everywhere's closed, aren't they?"

"Not the one on thirty-first. Go now!"

"Yes chef!" the man replied, racing out of the kitchen.

"Everyone else," he said, turning his attention to the rest of the kitchen staff, "double your pace."

He hadn't worked like this in ages. Table six was giving him a workout he hadn't seen in a year, since the fifth king of iron fist tournament. He sighed, depressed as he remembered not only his abysmal performance, but all his debts that had piled up like the snow at the door during a blizzard. His son's medical bills. Paul's repair bill for his motorbike. His doctor's bill. Chronic depression. He didn't need to pay someone to tell him he was depressed.

But this wasn't the time for that. Now was the time to cook, and though it didn't seem as enjoyable as it once had, he was going to keep at it, no matter what.

* * *

Paul huffed along, pedalling the little pink bicycle under him. It creaked once, then twice, then it fell apart, launching him onto his face.

"Ouch," he grumbled, standing up onto his feet and walking down the sidewalk, abandoning the broken bike.

He stopped in front of a restaurant. Law's restaurant. The sweet aroma of the cooking food hijacked his nostrils, and he began to drool. His stomach rumbled, and he licked his lips.

He entered the building. "Martial. You in here?"

"You're not the health inspector, are-" Law left the kitchen, and when he saw him, let out a girlish scream. "Paul, hey how have you— this isn't about your money is it?"

"What? No, it's about food. Make me some of your chicken fried rice, would ya?" He looked up, seeing a television set, though it wasn't on. "Where's the remote?"

"Over there somewhere," Law replied, waving his hand toward the back of the restaurant. Paul headed over there and found it. He wasted no time in turning it on and finding a table.

A group of waiters came out of the kitchen, each with half a dozen plates, and took them to a nearby table. He turned his attention to the TV set, flipping through the channels. News. Soap opera. Regular opera. Shitty action movie. Playboy channel? He grinned, his nostrils flaring as he watched the questionable content. Someone cleared their throat, gaining his attention.

It was a middle aged woman with raven hair from the table with all the food. Evidently, she had noticed what he was watching, and had sent him a glare that, quite frankly, scared the shit out of him. He quickly changed the channel, hoping that she would be more satisfied. This channel seemed to have an interview show. It had Hercule, or Mr. Satan, laughing like an idiot. He changed the channel once more, this time, settling on the Zaibatsu channel. It was some kind of 'ultimate fighter' type match, mostly wrestling. The traditional kind, not the other one. It was between King, and some burly son of a bitch.

King was being pummelled on the ground, slowly crawling to the edge of the ring and slapping hands with his partner, Craig Marduk. Evidently, it was a tag team match. Marduk jumped over the wires and threw his opponent to the other side of the ring. The big fighter, though not as big as Marduck, got to his feet and ran at the Astralian wrestler, but he grabbed him, turned him upside down and jumped high. As he came down, he slammed his opponents head into the floor, knocking him out, and winning the match.

"Eh, I've seen _way_ better," Paul said with a shrug, turning the TV off. Law soon came out with his meal. "Hope you enjoy."

"That I will," Paul grinned. Law returned, and he began to eat.

Someone new entered. She was a young woman, maybe twenty. Her eyes were red and puffy, likely from crying. She took a seat, and Paul returned to his meal. It had nothing to do with him.

"Damn it Kakarot, I was gonna have that spring roll and you know it."

Kakarot? That was a stupid name.

"You snooze, you lose," was the response.

Paul turned to them, his mouth fall. It was the table with the frightening woman. The two talking were both tough looking men. They were fighters, he could tell. He double took with the second man. For a minute, he mistook him for Kazuya, but that soon disappeared. Kazuya was much more muscular and scarred than this man. This man was more handsome too. Not that _he_ thought he was handsome, 'cause he didn't swing that way.

Paul was half way through his meal when trouble started. He heard them coming. Bikers. They pulled up, their engines halting, before they started filing in, shouting with as much volume as their bikes were making before. Great. He hated riff-raff, and apparently, so did those at the other table. The Kazuya look-alike was discussing with some of his party whether or not he should "blast them to hell" Paul would have loved to see that, but as long as they didn't do anything, he also wouldn't.

Any hope for a peaceful conclusion were quickly thrown out the window as they approached the girl from before. They were very drunk, he could tell, and they were evidently trying to impress her with _manly_ displays of strength, braking tables and throwing chairs through windows. They acted and sounded more like baboons than men.

"Just leave me alone, would you?" the woman finally said. She sounded frustrated, though he didn't know whether that was from the bikers, or from something completely different.

"No one says no to the boss!" the bikers' behaviour changed. Instead of trying to impress her, they had begun to surround her.

"Well I did." She said. "Find someone else to bother, or better yet, go home and sober up." Paul heard a shift in the seats of some from the other table. It sounded like they were going to intervene, but he was there first.

"Sounds like she isn't interested," he said, cracking his knuckles. "maybe you should back off."

"Fuck you!" one of the bikers, perhaps the leader, growled, "I got a cock that need sucking."

"You also got an ass that needs kicking." The leader turned, as did the others.

"You wanna go?!"

"Oh, I do. I really do," Paul smirked.

"Come on then, grandpa. I'm ready when you are!?"

Paul grinned with glee as he threw his arm back, clenching it into a fist, but before he launched it, someone caught his arm. He quickly turned to see who. It was that same woman from before.

"What up, bitch?" the leader questioned, trying to hold himself in a menacing way. He failed. The woman stepped forward, and she slapped him. She slapped him very hard. Hard enough to propel him out of the broken window. The rest of the gang cowered.

"You people should be ashamed of yourselves talking to a young lady like that! Stop acting like such children. Look at what you've done!"

"We-we-we're sorry!" They blubbered, "We-we'll leave."

"No you won't. You're going to march into that kitchen and work off all the damage you've caused!" They all nodded, and rushed towards the kitchen as fast as they could. Paul chuckled. That'll show 'em. "And you!" paul jumped as she turned her attention to him. "When are you men going to learn that you can't solve all you're problems with your fists! Bring your food over here so I can keep an eye on you!"

"Yes ma'am!" he cried. She turned to the young woman, and smiled.

"You can join us as well if you'd like."

She took her up on her offer, and the two joined the other table. They all introduced one another. The woman's name was Chi-Chi. The Kazuya look-alike was Vegeta, though he seemed to ignore him mostly. 'Kakarot' was actually named Goku. They talked, about the tournament mostly. Apparently, Goku was runner up to Mr. Satan. Speaking of whom, the champ entered and joined them, along with a chubby pink guy. He was as much of a ham as he was on TV. Their orders were taken, and they soon joined in the conversation.

"Jay Neartsu," the young girl finally introduced herself.

"Neartsu…" Mr. Satan trailed off. "Hey, you're brother was in the tournament, wasn't he?"

"Yes but," Jay paused, "he was badly injured in the first round."

"Noah Septa, wasn't it?"

She nodded, and then turned to Vegeta, "You beat him in the second match."

"He was trash," Vegeta replied, almost dismissively.

Eventually, Law came out and approached the one occupied table, a plastic bag with wrapped up goods. "Hey, something really strange happened today. A bunch of bikers came into my restaurant and started washing all our dishes. I hear that you had something to do with that."

"That was me," Chi-chi answered.

"I heard. Thanks for that. Anyway," he turned to Jay, handing her the bag. "Sorry your order took so long, but we kind of ran out of ingredients. Free of charge."

"Thank you," she took the bag, and bowed to the rest of the party, thanking them for their company.

Paul checked his watch. It read nine-fifteen. Paul stood, bid them farewell, and left. "Take it off my bill, okay."

About half an hour and two courses later, Goku's party was done. Law returned to their table with their bill.

"So, how will you be paying?" he asked with no hint of subtlety.

"I'll take care of that." Mr. Satan announced. Law charged the man's credit card and the rest of the group left.

* * *

The Son family returned home a minute later via instant transmission. Chi-chi unlocked the door and turned on the light. Then, on the inside of the door, she saw them. Three envelops. She picked them up, and read the writing.

_King of iron fist._

It was the same on all of them, the only difference being to whom they were addressed. Goku, Gohan, and Goten.

* * *

How dare G-corporation betray him! Kazuya growled, tossing a broken Jack aside and exiting the dark temple. Dirty bastards. No matter, he disposed of their would-be assassins, about a dozen Jack-5's easily enough. His new powers were more than they could have expected. Kazuya smirked at the notion as he exited and walked into the setting sun.

There was a powerful wind, pushing sand into his face.

Disgusting. Kazuya tried to spit some out that got into his mouth, but to no avail. It didn't matter. It wasn't enough to spoil his good mood.

After a year's mental training, his power had tripled. Devil, the being with whom he had once lived in harmony, had all but been dissolved and absorbed into his being. His smirk widened. He was a god.

He had nothing to fear. Almost nothing. In his meditations, he had a vision. A man clad in gold aura, with such presence and power that, for the first time since he was a child, he trembled. But it was nothing. Nothing at all. No one could stand up to him. No one. And with that, he transformed. A magnificent burst of power coursed through him, utterly dwarfing his original form. He gave a dark chuckle, before flying into the sky.


	2. 2 The temple of Devil

_Disclaimer;_

_I don't own Tekken _

_Dragon ball Z_

_**The Temple of Devil.**__  
_

* * *

It was dawn by the time Kazuya returned to his West city apartment. As soon as he arrived, he grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and opened it, downing a large mouthful. He heard the mail flap of the door open, and something hit his carpet. He looked over to the door, seeing his morning newspaper and a letter. Strange. He picked them up and put them on his coffee table, taking another drink.

He sat on his couch, and picked up the letter.

_King of iron fist_

He recognised the Zaibatsu logo on the envelope before reading the writing. Kazuya smirked, casually opening it after finishing his drink. He unfolded the letter, and read.

_Dear Kazuya Mishima _

_Your abilities have been recognised as a worthy martial artist. Therefore, it is my pleasure to invite you, on behalf of Heihachi Mishima, to take part in the 6th King of iron fist tournament. An invitation has been enclosed with this letter, allowing you access to the preliminary rounds of the tournament. A boat will be leaving for the Mishima Island from north, west, east, south, and Satan city. On the 23__rd__ of June. We hope to see you at the competition._

_Yours sincerely,  
Lee Chaolan.  
Vice president of the Mishima Zaibatsu._

This would be perfect. He hadn't had a good workout since beating his Grandfather and taking his power. Maybe this time he'd take the Zaibatsu. He would have done so last time, but Heihachi beat him to it, and he had no intention of walking into an ambush. He put both letter and envelope, aside and picked up his newspaper, a smirk still on his face.

XXX

There was sand flying everywhere, to Jin's discomfort. He marched on nonetheless, tracking through the sand with minimal vision. He raised his canteen to his lips, taking a big swig of water. He trekked on. Dr. Able had said that the temple of Devil was around here, though they could have easily been lying. But why would they bother? It wasn't as if they had anything to gain by sending him on a snipe hunt.

Then, he saw something. Something big. A building of some kind. Was this it? He continued on, faster than before. He felt the beast within him rage. He had to struggle not to lose control of the immediate primal urges. Maybe if he looked here, maybe, just maybe, he might be able to learn how to control the Devil gene, or even better, abolish it.

Then, through the sand, he saw a pair of red eyes. He froze, dropping his canteen, the water spilling into the sand bellow. Kazuya? No, it wasn't. If it were him, the Devil within him would have reacted to his. He moved on, cautiously. As he got closer, he saw that it was a Jack. He eyed it with suspicion. What was a Jack doing all the way out here.

"Taint of the devil gene detected," its voice boomed, making Jin instinctively jump to a battle stance. "Initiating combat protocol seven-alpha!" From around it, an additional seven Jacks jumped up out of the Sand.

Two of the Jack's charged at him while the other six held out their hands, which opened to reveal mini guns. They wasted no time in opening fire. Jin dodged the gun fire and kicked one of the jacks in the head with such force that it came off. Immediately after that, he threw his fist into one of their torsos, smashing it. The remaining six, out of ammo, ran at him, their arms returning to normal. Two to the left, two to the right, and two charged his centre. He punched through one of the middle Jacks, and hurled its body at the second, knocking it down. The other four swarmed on him, but he jumped back, sweeping at one of their feet, and elbowed it in the head, shattering it. The other Jack got up, and lunged, but he took it out, and kicked through a second. Two remained and, undeterred by their fellows, charged forward. One punched, and he dodged, tore its arm off, and put it through the other. His elbow came back and smashed through the last of them.

"Were they from G-corporation?" Jin questioned, looking from them to the temple that lay in front of him. They must have been. No one else knew he was here. After telling him about this place, they had tried to kill him, but why?

* * *

Hwoarang's motorcycle came to a stop just before a steep dip in the sand. The engine came to a halt, and he unsaddled the vehicle. On the horizon was an enormous, ancient looking temple. He couldn't help but be in awe. Behind him, he heard the roar of an engine. Another motorcycle to be exact. He turned to face the approaching newcomer. As it approached, he recognised them from the road. He'd passed the biker on the road. They'd had a bit of a race, though Hwoarang easily left him in the dust.

Their bike came to a halt in front of him. They dismounted, and Hwoarang's eyes widened a little as he saw the biker's features more closely. He was actually a she. She removed the red helmet that was on her head, allowing her sea of blonde hair to fall free. She approached him, her large, blue eyes locking with his. A cocky smirk came to her lips, her tongue darting out and licking them.

"Hwoarang. I've been looking forward to this for a while."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you are …?

"Lira Septa," she answered, stepping around him. He followed her with his eyes, looking closely at the tight leather gear on her body. She was hot, but this wasn't the time for that. She turned from him, to the building the distance, surrounded by a sand storm. "Do you know much about that place?"

Hwoarang shook his head, his eyes moving from her to the construction. "Strange that the sand storm is only around the building, and nowhere else."

"It's a defence," Lira stated, "to keep intruders out, and to keep whoever's in there, well, in."

"And just what's in there?"

"Apparently, one of the seven Tekken lords. According to legend anyway."

"The who according to what now?" Hwoarang questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"The temple of Devil. 'Devil' was one of Seven Tekken lords. God of power. There's also Ogre, god of fighting, and Azazeal, god of Death. Chaos, god of war. Omega, god of Ki."

"And the other two?"

Lira shrugged. "Don't recall. Anyway, it's just a legend. So why are you here?"

"I'm following someone," he answered. "And you?"

"Same. So, who are you looking for?"

"A friend." He hopped back onto his bike, and started it up.

"Mind if I tag along?"

"If you want," Hwoarang moved his goggles to his eyes. He drove down the steep dip, following a dusty path, hearing Lira bike behind him.

They went through the storm, and at first, he saw nothing, but after about a minute of driving, the grand temple came back into view. More important though, was the man standing in front of it. Kazama. He pulled to a stop, and again dismounted. "Kazama!"

Jin turned to face him. "Hwoarang? Sorry," he turned away from him, "I don't have time." Lira's bike stopped behind him, though he didn't pay much attention to it.

"What else is new," he spat, "Damn it Kazama! Stop brooding for one Kami-damned minute and look at me. Stop pushing everyone away!" If Jin heard him, he didn't show it. He walked, ascending the Temple's steps. "Don't you walk away from me! KAZAMA!" his rival continued up the stairs, then stopped. He curled over, fell to his knees, and held his head in his hands. Kazama? Something was wrong. Just then, two black, feathered wings sprouted from his back. Hwoarang's eyes widened. He was transforming, just like a year ago, after Hwoarang beat him in the Iron fist. The transformation finished within seconds.

"It's real," Lira gaped, "the legend. It's true. Devil!"

"Devil? Is that what that thing is called?" Hwoarang took a step, but with a wave of his wings, Kazama sent a blast of wind back and threw him off his feet. Then, he flapped his wings, and flew off into the sky.

* * *

Damn it! Bulma internally cursed as the online auction slipped away from her. A dazzling pair of sneakers, taken from right under her nose. Normally, she wouldn't go for sneakers, but these were just so exquisitely beautiful and rare, that she couldn't resist. Damn Mishima-lightning14432, taking the win in the last second. Bulma turned off the computer and stood, stretching.

"Oh well, they'll just have to be the ones that got away."

She left down the hall, but stopped when the phone rang. She answered it. It was a girl, asking for Trunks. She smiled, told her to wait, and headed off to get him.

He was training, along with Vegeta, in the gravity chamber. She knocked on the door, and after a few seconds it opened. Vegeta was standing there, an irritated look on his face; she looked past him to her son. "Trunks, phone for you. It's a girl." He looked to her, and blushed.

"Right, thanks mom." Trunks made for the door, but Vegeta grabbed him by the scruff of the shirt.

"Where do you think you're going?" Vegeta growled. "We're supposed to be training."

"I'll just be real quick, and then I'll be back. I promise." He stared at his son, before letting go. The teen scurried away. Bulma's husband looked at her, scowling. She gave an apathetic shrug, before closing the door on him.


	3. 3 Time to party!

_Disclaimer_

_I don't own Tekken_

_Dragon ball Z_

_**Time to party!**_

* * *

That morning, Goten, Gohan, and Goku all packed their things and made their way outside. After a farewell with their family, they flew into the air and headed to their destination.

The Son family arrived at the dock of Satan city. It wasn't as crowded as Goten expected, well, not compared to the Budokai Tenkaichi at least where there were thousands of competitors. He looked over the timetable at the back of his invitation. The ship from Satan city would be departing at noon, and arrive at the island at two-thirty along with the east city ship. Theirs was the last to leave, and one of the first to arrive. The competitors from West, north, and south city would be arriving via airplane, and arriving anywhere between nine and eleven. Goten stuffed the invitation in his pocket, and looked up.

His father and brother had moved on, lining up at the ship. He checked his watch, which read eleven forty-five, before walking over to join them.

He walked down the street undisturbed, until someone ran into him. "Hey, watch where you're going!" He growled. He was a teenager, a bit younger than himself, and covered in filth. He stormed off, grumbling.

_What a jerk_. Goten shook his head and continued, lining up behind his brother. The line passed quite quickly, and in no time at all, Goten was at the front. A man was standing at the ramp up, and when it was Goten's turn, he asked, "invitation?" Goten reached into his pocket, but found nothing. He kept searching; growing worried, but still found nothing. "No invitation, no entry. Please step aside."

He did so, but not without complaint. The man didn't want to hear it, and ignored him. What could have happened? He had it just-

"_Hey, watch where you're going!"_

Goten closed his eyes, placing his face in his hand. How could he be so stupid? The guy must have stolen it, but why? He couldn't use it, or could he? Goten thought back, and soon realized that there was no name on the invitation. But that was stupid! Why wouldn't they… It didn't matter right now. He needed to find that-! He looked into the line that had formed behind him, and blinked. The very person he was looking for was about halfway down the line.

"Hey!"

The boy looked over to him, and his eyes widened. "Oh shit," he cried, before running for it.

"Oi, get back here."

"Hey, why are you yelling?" Goten turned to the one who had spoken. It was a girl, maybe his age. She was Japanese, with brown, chin length hair. She was in rather short shorts, a shirt that left her mid-riff bear, accompanied with an open sleeveless jacket, all in blue. He took her appearance in within seconds.

"Someone stole my invitation."

She stepped out of line, and looked to the boy who was getting away. "Don't worry. I'll catch him!" she bolted.

"What? Hey wait." He chased after her.

Their target ran around a corner, his pursuers on his tail. He was fast, but they were much faster. He darted in and out of the crowd, hoping to lose them. It was working, as a group of fat tourists came out of a shop blocking their path. Without thinking, Goten instinctively took to the air and levitated. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell-"

Whatever the girl was going to say, he didn't hear as he flew away, trying to find the boy. It was hard. The crowd he was hiding in was thick and numerous. He finally spotted him as he left the crowd.

"Hey you!" Goten called down. The boy looked up, and screeched. His speed increased, and he ran. Right into an oncoming pedestrian. He fell, where's the other person had barely flinched. Goten landed right next to him. "Hand it over!" he growled. The boy, frightened, returned the golden slip to him. "Sorry about all-" Goten looked up, but the young man the boy had run into was gone.

The girl from before came running toward him, puffing. "You… What the hell was that?"

"Flight."

"Yeah, I saw that. I mean how?"

Goten ran a hand through his hair. "Well, anyone can do it if they know how."

She shook her head. "I'd call you crazy, but, well, after that … I don't know. Anyway, the ship will be leaving soon. We should get going."

* * *

The boat ride itself was pretty dull. Champagne was offered, but Goten didn't have any. Not that he would have been allowed, after all, he was only Seventeen. Looking around, he guessed that there would have only been about one-hundred people aboard, maybe less.

When they arrived, everyone was ushered away and led from the docks to a large building, their bags and gear was taken, and they were told they'd be returned to them later. From there, they were lead to a ballroom of sorts, decked out for a party of some kind. "Enjoy yourselves," they were told. There was food, punch, drinks, music, but it wasn't a party. Not until night came, and the rest of the contestants arrived. The music picked up, and the sound of chatter roamed through the room. More food was brought out, along with paper plates. Instead of the snacks and appetizers that were there before, there was now a full buffet. His father was at the food table before the servers were, or maybe he just hadn't left since they had arrived. Goten joined him, grabbed a plate, and stacked it with food and dug in.

"Hey there."

Goten turned, a leg of chicken in his mouth. The girl from before was standing there. He put the chicken back to his plate.

"Oh, hi."

"Name's Asuka. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before."

"Goten."

"Glad to meet you! This your first time?"

"My first what? Oh, the tournament. Right, yeah."

"My second."

Goten nodded. "So, what's it like?"

"Well, if it's anything like last time, it'll be like a full paid Vacation other than a fight every now and then. Though I've heard it tends to be different every time."

"Really. That's weird. Why not stick with the same system?"

Asuka simply shrugged. "Beats me." They talked for a bit. Not about anything too big. Family. Life. School. "So, you go to East city high, right?" Goten nodded. "I thought I recognised you."

"If you were here before, You must know some of these people, right."

"Some of them. By name, and reputation," she answered, scanning the room. "Can't find that many that I know. Let's see …

He joined her, surveying the room, and stopping on a pair. Paul and law, the two from the restaurant? They were here? They were martial artists? His father had taken a break from eating surprisingly, and was talking to them. His eyes moved away from them and to another, the young man he had seen before, the one the thief had run into. He didn't get a chance to get a good look at him before. He saw sadness in his eyes, and determination. Asuka, seeming to see who he was looking at, made a sound of disgust. "Him?"

"Who's 'him'?"

"Just some pervert who tried to play cute. Forget him. Hey, you want to dance?" She gestured to the middle of the room, where many people were dancing to the music.

"Sure, I don't see why not."

* * *

Who would have thought it? Paul and Law were Martial artists. Not just a great cook, but a fighter too! Goku returned from the lavatory to the party, looking around the room. The food had all but run out. He couldn't help but wonder when they'd send out the second course. Someone cleared their throat, and Goku turned to the front of the room. Someone was addressing the crowd. He was a strong looking man, who didn't look as old as his grey hair would suggest. The middle of his scalp was bald, though he had hair on both sides of it, pointing away from his head in an upwards fashion.

"Good evening everyone, and Welcome to the Sixth king of Iron fist tournament!" Everyone cheered, except for a few, one of whom was standing near him. From the corner of his eye, he saw him glaring. He looked to him, and saw a look of utter hatred on his face. For some reason, he recognised him, and it wasn't just because he had the same hair as Vegeta. Now that he thought about it, the man addressing them was also familiar. "I am Heihachi Mishima, CEO and ruler of the Mishima Zaibatsu, and sponsor of this Tournament. Now, I hope you are ready to compete for ten-thousand Zeni, and ownership of the Zaibatsu itself. The preliminary rounds start tomorrow at eleven in the morning. But for now, enjoy yourselves. Stay as long as you wish, but when you are ready to retire, please register at the lobby. Your name will be put forward for tomorrow's matches, and you'll be given a room number and key." The crowd clapped again, and the man stepped aside. As he went, Goku's eyes followed him. He knew that man, but from where. From the news? No, he didn't watch the news, or TV, which meant one thing. He must have met him before.


End file.
